


What Do You Need

by Mouse9



Series: Always 1895 [2]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: 1895, Crossdressing, F/M, Victorian
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-12
Updated: 2021-03-12
Packaged: 2021-03-18 21:48:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,084
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29989314
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mouse9/pseuds/Mouse9
Summary: Day 2 of Sherlolly Appriciation week_ What Do You Need?Sherlolly- but make it Victorian
Relationships: Sherlock Holmes/Molly Hooper
Series: Always 1895 [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2205948
Comments: 6
Kudos: 34
Collections: Sherlolly Appreciation Week 2021





	What Do You Need

It had been years since Holmes and Watson’s first meeting, less time since Watson’s marriage to Mary Watson and even less since the Ricoletti case and the confrontation of the Abominable Brides. Even though Holmes knew her secret, he’d never told and continued to treat her as he always had, abominably. 

But this new danger, this Professor that had been playing dangerous games with Holmes was coming to a head. The chess board was getting smaller and smaller and more and more, when the men came into her Morgue, the arguments would arise once more. She had been obliged to send Anderson away after the man had inadvertently spilled dangerous secrets he’d overhead Holmes and Watson discussing inside the cavernous chambers of her Morgue. It seemed this mysterious Professor Moriarty had spies everywhere. 

Hooper herself had to be more cautious, which had her acting gruffer than usual with both Holmes and Watson. Dr. Watson, for his part, was at first taken aback. Holmes seemed to encourage it, even arguing back when the need arose. 

It was late in the evening and with the loss of Anderson, Hooper had to stay later to clean her Morgue. She despised mess and disorder. This place, no matter how damp, and cold and creepy it looked, was hers and she guarded it fiercely. 

Inspector Lestrade had been in earlier with some of his coppers from the Yard looking for Holmes. When they searched their fill, thereby destroying her Morgue before leaving, Lestrade had taken her aside and explained the situation as quickly and succinctly as possible. Holmes was wanted for murder, treason, blackmail and kidnapping. Lestrade didn’t believe it but he was outranked as his superior saw this as an easy win for the Yard and a tally mark against letting non police handle police matters. 

“Officially Dr. Hooper, if you see Holmes, let us know as soon as possible yeah? Unofficially,” he took a breath. “Tell Holmes to be careful. The entire Yard is out looking for him, it’s a bloody scavenger hunt.”

Hooper stared at the Inspector for a long time, before nodding slowly. “I’ll be sure to keep you informed Inspector.”

With a nod and a hat tip, Lestrade was gone and the Morgue was silent once again.

* * *

The Morgue clean and her paperwork finished, the last thing to do was to suffocate the fire in the stove. She would come in the next morning to start it since the maids refused to come in and start the fires. Cowards, every once of them. Dare to call themselves women. The women she associated with were powerful, dangerous creatures, willing to die for their cause, willing to kill for it as well. The threat of ghosts didn’t frighten them, they were the ghosts.

Sliding on her coat, she left her office, locking the wooden door behind her and headed towards the fire in the back of the room.

“You were wrong before,” the noncorporeal voice rang quietly through the stone cavern. She couldn’t help it, she jumped, not expecting to hear anything but her own footfalls. Spinning on her heels, she noticed Holmes step out of the shadows, watching her. 

“Holmes,” Clearing her throat, she tried again. “You shouldn’t be here; the Yard is out looking for you.”

Slowly he stepped into the light and her eyes widened. Clad in his greatcoat, his hair was askew, no longer sleeked back against his skull but wild and she could detect a hint of curl in those escaped locks. 

“You were wrong.” He repeated as he slowly approached her. “You do count. You have always counted, and I have always trusted you.”

Unbidden, her mind jumped back to that morning.

_She had allowed the men to use a table towards the back of the morgue as a testing site for the samples Holmes needed to run. They couldn’t return to Baker Street and this was the place that Watson had suggested._

_She stood close, watching him experiment with dirt and greenery as Watson tended to the fire, his mind seemingly miles away._

_“I don’t know what’s happening,” she said quietly. “But it’s affecting Watson.”_

_“Hooper, I am busy.” He said distractedly. Nevertheless, she continued._

_“Watson and Mary are your closest friends, your most trusted confidants. If you are planning something and I know you are…you should include them in your plans.”_

_“Hooper…” He paused, blinking and then looked down at her. “You do not include yourself in the list.”_

_She snorted, rolling her eyes, the pasted mustache twitching. “You and I both know I am not counted among your trusted confidants. I am merely the medical examiner you tolerate.”_

_He frowned. “Mo…”_

_She stepped back, eyes wide. “Don’t. I’ll…make us coffee, shall I? Dr. Watson,” her voice louder and the man turned. “Would you care for a cup?”_

“What’s happening?” Throughout this entire adventure of his, she’d never truly gotten an answer as to why the Yard was accusing Holmes of these heinous crimes. “What do you need?”

“Molly.” The forbidden name was spoken in whispers but still present and before them now, the admittance of her true name, one he had never spoken before now. Hooper sucked in a breath, eyes wide as he approached her. “If I was not everything I seem, if I was proven to be nothing more than a charlatan, a fraud, would you still wish to help me?”

She had seen Sherlock Holmes as his finest, seen his deductions, knew him not to be these things. She believed in this man, not matter what. Straightening her shoulders, she tilted up her head to look at him. 

“What do you need?”

Another step closer and she could reach out and touch him, should she choose. 

“You.”

The word was spoken with a finality that had her breath catching in her chest.

“What can I do?”

“Help me die.”

* * *

Days later when word came in the form of the papers that Sherlock Holmes, in a fight to the death with his arch nemesis, Professor James Moriarty, had both fallen to their deaths from the observation bridge at the Reichenbach Falls in Switzerland, Hooper was not surprised. 

She carefully folded the newspaper and stored it in a secret shelf in her desk. Then she sat back in her desk chair and awaited the telegram from Pal Mal.

She believed in Sherlock Holmes and she would assist in any subterfuge necessary to restore his good name.

She was part of a larger conspiracy now.


End file.
